A Commuter's Dream

Good afternoon. Courtesy of Rachel Maddow's Twitter feed comes this delightful example of the joys of public transportation.



I wish they had done a little something from South Pacific (I'm not a Sound of Music fan), but I like the idea in principle.

I also like trains. There was a time in my life when I commuted two hours to work and two hours back, every day, by train. I burned out, of course, but I loved the daily train ride. Every time we are in England, we take one day trip to London, and we always go by train - and France's railway system is fabulous - even more fun than England's. They have incredibly fast trains. Robin and I traveled all through France and Spain by train once. That was a disastrous trip, but not because of the train system. Someday, when I'm feeling really strong, I'll tell you all about it. (Hint: We crossed the channel on the Eurostar. On September 13, 2001) In general, I wish we had a railway system here in North America as efficient and downright fun as those in Europe.

7:10 p.m. I'm watching Countdown, and that has inspired me to pop back in here - to note that President Obama agrees with me about trains and the European rail systems. He said so, at his town hall meeting in Strasbourg - but you heard it here first! ;>)

I'm having a bit of trouble reading the screen, because my eyes have been dilated, so I'll cut this short, and just present, as promised, the April 3 offering, from Poem-a-Day:

corydon & alexis, redux
by D. A. Powell

and yet we think that song outlasts us all: wrecked devotion
the wept face of desire, a kind of savage caring that reseeds itself and grows in clusters

oh, you who are young, consider how quickly the body deranges itself
how time, the cruel banker, forecloses us to snowdrifts white as god's own ribs


what else but to linger in the slight shade of those sapling branches
yearning for that vernal beau. for don't birds covet the seeds of the honey locust
and doesn't the ewe have a nose for wet filaree and slender oats foraged in the meadow
kit foxes crave the blacktailed hare: how this longing grabs me by the nape


guess I figured to be done with desire, if I could write it out
dispense with any evidence, the way one burns a pile of twigs and brush

what was his name? I'd ask myself, that guy with the sideburns and charming smile
the one I hoped that, as from a sip of hemlock, I'd expire with him on my tongue



silly poet, silly man: thought I could master nature like a misguided preacher
as if banishing love is a fix. as if the stars go out when we shut our sleepy eyes



n.b. Images from YouTube and Wikipedia